


Seeing Blue

by Caelum_Blue



Series: just another day in the metafictional cafe [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Art, Crossover, Gen, Glitter, Humor, Mabel Pines should not be trusted with food, Metafiction, Thrawn is glad to be canon again, characters discussing their own canon, meilooruns, someone please help the poor barista, someone please kill Maul again already, the Ghost crew doesn't share in the enthusiasm, the fic writer is ecstatic that Thrawn is canon again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 17:09:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7582672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caelum_Blue/pseuds/Caelum_Blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a cafe located somewhere in the multiverse, a bunch of characters alternatively celebrate or bemoan the fact that Grand Admiral Thrawn is once again canon. </p><p>Season Three is going to be amazing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeing Blue

**Author's Note:**

> So I kinda freaked out when I saw the Season Three trailer. Thrawn (and Pellaeon) has been my #2 Character I Want Recanonized since FOREVER. I'm so excited to see him onscreen for the first time ever this fall; I really do think he's the best Star Wars villain ever, better even than Vader and Palpatine. I mean, yeah, Vader's ICONIC, but Thrawn is COMPETENT and a good boss, the kind of villain who you can respect and are even tempted to root for if it wasn't for the fact that he's still, y'know, evil. So looking forward to seeing him in action. Kind of worried for the Rebels crew and how they're gonna survive this, but mostly excited.
> 
> Btw, whenever you see an asterisk (*), hover over it! I've figured out hovertext, which means I've figured out decent footnotes. Much better than the regular footnotes that require you to hop down to the bottom of the page before going back to your reading. Now I just need to make them suitably Terry Pratchett-esque and I'll be set.

The multiverse is, for lack of a better term, an utter mess. The whole thing is just a giant swirling mass of assorted realities, and it gets bigger with every new story told. Fortunately it’s a generally-contained mess - stories like to keep to themselves, with the exception of the occasional crossover. Much like this one.

This fic occupies a reality nestled somewhere deep in the never-ending vortex of stories. It’s a rather nondescript place, mostly because the fic writer doesn’t feel like describing it. All you need to know is that there’s a cafe - or a bistro, a pub, coffee shop, cantina, noshery, _some place where you can commune for food and drink_ \- which is staffed by a single, overworked, equally nondescript barista, and it’s open to every iteration of every character to have ever existed.

Today had been quiet, so far; there weren’t as many patrons as there could have been, given the vast population of the multiverse. Hermione Granger was nursing a butterbeer while ranting to Harry and Ron about the poorly-thought-out American-based canon additions their reality was currently going through. Uncle Iroh and Bilbo Baggins were having a cheery argument about the best ways to brew tea. Mabel Pines had managed to get herself behind the counter and was adding glitter to everyone’s drinks, much to the barista’s dismay.

Most of the day’s customers, however, hailed from a galaxy far, far away, because, to be honest, the fic writer has been on a Star Wars kick. Boba Fett sat alone in a dark, shadowy corner reserved for dramatic characters, with a drink he never touched but that seemed to slowly empty when no one was looking, even though he never once took off his helmet. In one of the booths, three out of four Solo children were attempting to bond - one half of the table consisted of a very uncomfortable-looking Jaina and Anakin, while on the other half Jacen was attempting to exchange stories with a peeved Kylo Ren about That Time I Fell To The Dark Side And Killed My Beloved-By-The-Audience Family Member.* At the counter, Poe Dameron grinned while Finn and Rey perused the menu, ecstatic to try food that was neither heavily processed ration bars nor barely-adequate green bread. There was plenty to choose from - one of the benefits of eating at a cross-dimensional establishment is that you can order food from across all realities - or even things that aren’t food at all. For instance, Maul was cheerfully guzzling down rat poison to show off the fact that he _just. Won’t. Die._ *

All-in-all, it was a slow day.

And then the door burst open and a blue-skinned, black-haired man in a crisp white uniform strode through, radiating smugness. “Guess who’s canon again, bitches,” Grand Admiral Thrawn smirked.

“Whoop-de-doo for you,” Jaina Solo grumbled. The advent of Kylo Ren had permanently consigned her and her brothers to the Legends universe, with no hope for reintegration to canon.

“I would say I’m sorry,” Thrawn hummed, “but I’m really not. Good luck with the patricidal Vader fanatic who replaced you. Ah, my new friends!” he added, coming to a large table around which sat six rebels. “Or should I say enemies? Are you ready to go up against me in Season Three?”

The _Ghost_ crew groaned.

“We’re karked,” Zeb moaned, slumping forward onto the table. “There won’t be a Season Four. This is the end. This is how we die.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Thrawn said, grabbing a chair and helping himself to a spot at their table right in between Zeb and Sabine, “I’ll be sure to kill you very artistically.”

Chopper made a few sounds that best went untranslated.

“My explosions are more artistic than anything _you’re_ bound to come up with,” Sabine grumbled, glaring at Thrawn over her datapad.

He favored her with a demure smile. “I cannot _wait_ to analyze your work and rip you apart.”

“You can’t rip us apart,” Hera said calmly. “We’re the main characters. You’ll probably _win_ , but I doubt any of us will end up dead.”

“Hm, true,” Thrawn conceded. “But likewise, I’m a beloved and long-awaited EU character that the fans have desperately wanted for quite some time. I doubt you’ll be rid of me in a mere season finale like those Inquisitors.”

“We’ll see about that!” Ezra said. “I’m reading up on you right now!” He hefted a trio of extremely battered paperbacks that had been salvaged at a yard sale. “Try fighting us when we know all your weaknesses!”

Thrawn wrinkled his nose at the books. “That cover art is atrocious,” he grumbled.

“Most EU Star Wars cover art is atrocious,” Kanan said.

“Not that you have to look at it anymore, eh?” Maul laughed from his seat a table over, and Kanan Force-slapped him. “OW!”

Thrawn was still peering at the book covers. “Honestly, it’s just a mishmash of characters against odd backdrops...some of the poses are even lifted directly from movie stills...I’m the main villain but I’m relegated to a small side image, and I’m not even _on_ the third cover...and why is C’baoth constantly showing off his chest? Also I’m certain Force lightning doesn’t look like that. It’s as though the cover artists were trying to slap as many recognizable Star Wars characters and assorted cool things into the picture as possible so as to sell more books… Oh, wait. Yes, that’s likely exactly what they were doing.”

“We get it, you’re an evil art critic who can Sherlock his way through any situation and it’s gonna be hard to beat you,” Kanan sighed. “Ezra, anything good in those things?”

“I’m looking, I’m looking,” Ezra said, paging through the paperbacks.

Thrawn hummed. “In the meantime, while you’re trying to figure out how to defeat me with information in a book that isn’t even canon anymore…” He leaned back in his seat and looked at the barista. “In celebration of my re-canonization, food and drinks are on me!”

The entire cafe immediately perked up, and the barista had a whole five seconds to look horrified before they were suddenly swamped with requests. Harry and Ron called for fire whiskey to help them get through Hermione’s ranting, Bilbo and Iroh wanted a pot of tea, and Finn and Rey immediately and enthusiastically demanded _one of everything_. In the chaos, Mabel Pines sprinkled generous amounts of glitter into everyone’s order.

“I hope you go bankrupt,” Hera grumbled.

Thrawn snorted. “On a Grand Admiral’s paycheck? I’d have to be _trying_.” He pulled out a datapad and began looking up Star Wars Rebels concept art.

“I’ll have an order of space waffles!” Zeb shouted at the overwhelmed barista.

“Zeb!” Hera snapped.

“What? If the good admiral’s gonna kill us, we might as well get some food out of it!”

Hera sighed. “Oh, fine. I’ll have a meiloorun smoothie.”

“Sure!” the poor barista squeaked.

“So what does this mean for our universe, anyway?” Sabine asked, idly scribbling on her datapad. “Bringing you back in, I mean. Is this opening the door for more EU stuff?”

“I certainly hope so!” Gilad Pellaeon said, entering the cafe with a retinue of stormtroopers and Imperial officers in tow. The rebels twitched momentarily, hands briefly straying to bo-staff, blasters, and lightsaber hilts before relaxing. Pellaeon either didn’t notice or didn’t care as he came to stand at attention behind Thrawn’s chair. “I know I wouldn’t mind being canon again.”

“I wouldn’t mind you being canon again, either,” Thrawn hummed, swiping through his datapad. “Men, at ease. Captain, take a seat.”

The stormtroopers and officers found an empty table for themselves and immediately added to the barista’s lengthy list of orders, while Pellaeon dragged an empty chair into the space between Thrawn and Zeb, ignoring the Lasat’s glare. “Do you think it’s possible, sir?” he asked. “They didn’t bother to show my service to the Republic during the Clone Wars show, and then they swept me into Legends with all the other riffraff.”

“Hey!” Jaina and Anakin Solo snapped from their booth. Jacen didn’t; he was too busy berating Kylo Ren for _what kind of Sith Lord doesn’t have Darth in their name, seriously?_

Thrawn ignored the outburst. “Elementary, my dear Pellaeon,” he said. “The same happened to me. If _I_ am canon, and _you and I_ were a team, and Dave Filoni is enough of a fan to have brought _me_ back, and Timothy Zahn has been hired to write me a new backstory, it follows that we have a chance for your return as well.” He paused, looking at a screenshot on his datapad. “You might undergo some redesigns, however. How do you feel about being younger?”

“Oh, I’m not complaining, sir.”

Thrawn leaned back in his seat and steepled his fingers, the picture of poise as he surreptitiously peered over Sabine’s shoulder at the datapad she was scribbling on. “With any luck,” he continued, “my flagship will be called the _Chimaera_ , and you’ll be my captain and the Watson to my Sherlock, and everything we love will be canonized once again. With the exception of maybe Lieutenant Tschel. I think everyone forgot about him.”

“Hey,” Lieutenant Tschel grumbled from the table of officers and stormtroopers. It was true, though. Pellaeon had been the darling of the Imperial Remnant amongst the EU writers, while Lieutenant Tschel had completely disappeared between Timothy Zahn books.

“I get the feeling we’re scrapping the Noghri, though,” Thrawn added.

“Well given how _that_ ended I really can’t complain,” Pellaeon huffed.

“Noghri?” Ezra repeated, and began flipping through the books with renewed, curious vigor.

“Alright, we get it, this is cute and you guys are cute and your want to be canon again is cute,” Sabine said, sounding completely unaffected by the alleged cuteness. “But seriously, bringing in EU stuff - what does this mean for us?”

“Frankly, it means you’d better find a good way to defeat me, or else your Rebellion’s doomed and Episodes Four through Seven will never happen,” Thrawn drawled. He tilted his head a bit to look at her datapad. “What a lovely rendition of a starbird.”

“Thanks, I - _ugh_.” She glared at him and pulled her datapad out of view. “Stop looking at my art!”

“Oh, come now,” Thrawn smiled. “I think we all know that’s _exactly_ what I’ll be doing this season.”

“Sabine, no more art!” Zeb shouted in a panic. “We all might _die_ because you leave graffiti everywhere!”

“Force, I hope he never finds holos of the repainted TIE fighter,” Ezra muttered.

“Exactly,” said Zeb. “No more art allowed - it’s nothing but plain gear and colorless explosions from now on!”

“I’m not scrapping my art just because of this jerk!” she snapped. “Kanan, back me up here, you like my art!”

“I can’t exactly _see_ it anymore,” he groused, waving a hand in front of his helmet.

“SPACE WAFFLES AND MEILOORUN SMOOTHIE!” the barista suddenly shouted, hurling a plate of suspiciously-sparkly waffles and an equally shiny smoothie at their table.

Hera blinked at her drink and Zeb sniffed his food warily. “Is there _glitter_ in this?”

“It tastes _amazing_!” Mabel Pines sing-sang from the kitchen. Zeb and Hera exchanged glances, shrugged, and dug in.

“Anyway,” Thrawn said, “It’s not as though this is the first time they’ve formally canonized EU contributions. Holocrons, for one.”

“Maybe they’ll bring back ysalimiri,” Pellaeon mused.

Ezra was staring in horror at a paragraph in _Heir to the Empire_ detailing the abilities of the little tree snakes. “Kriff I hope not!”

Beside him, Kanan shuddered. “Yeah, _no_. Getting violently blinded was bad enough, I _do not_ need to be blocked from the Force, too!”

“There was also Dathomir,” Thrawn said. “And Nightsisters. Black Sun. Let’s see, what else…”

“Meilooruns!” Wedge Antilles shouted, popping up beside Hera and pointing at her smoothie. “You owe that to me, you know!”*

“The Admiral paid for it,” Pellaeon said.

“He means the very existence of a delicious fruit,” Hera said. “And thank you, Wedge, we appreciate it. Who knew a made-up fruit in a de-canonized novel from 1996 would be such a beloved running gag twenty years later?”

Wedge grinned at the _Ghost_ crew, cradling a mug of kaf. “And that’s not the only thing! Guys! I get to be in your show! Isn’t that great?”

“Uh-huh,” Ezra said, putting aside _Heir to the Empire_ in favor of _Dark Force Rising_. “Think most people are overlooking your involvement in favor of tall, blue, and snobby over there.”

“Well, can you blame them?” Wedge asked. “I’m already canon. Thrawn just got back! And he’s gonna be an amazing villain. I mean, he almost destroyed the New Republic _after_ the Empire was in shambles - just think of what he’ll be able to do at its peak! It’s so exciting. I can’t wait!”

“You’re only saying that because you’re guaranteed to live until Episode Six,” Zeb grumbled around a mouthful of space waffles and glitter.

Wedge laughed. “I know, it’s great. Hey! Maybe I’ll get to be in more than just the one episode! Maybe you guys will finally have a cool pilot with actual characterization instead of nameless faceless wingmen doomed to death!”

“That _does_ sound nice,” Hera sighed, thinking of the poor, constantly-dying Phoenix Squadron who, contrary to their namesake, never did rise from the ashes.

“Maybe they’ll pull in Hobbie and Janson and Porkins,” Wedge mused. “Oooh, or Biggs Darklighter!”

“Ysanne Isard,” Thrawn mused.

Wedge shuddered. “Ugh, Iceheart.” He took a sip of his kaf and immediately gagged. “Is there _glitter_ in this?”

“Most likely,” Thrawn said, eyes fixed on the be-sweatered girl running circles around the poor barista. “The child seems to treat the entire world as her personal canvas. Intriguing.”

“AHA!” Ezra crowed suddenly, fixing Thrawn with a wicked grin as he hefted _The Last Command_. “I found your death scene!”

“I’m surprised you didn’t think to check the end of the last book sooner,” Thrawn drawled, “given that I _am_ the main villain so _of course_ I wouldn’t die until the climax.”

“Shut up,” Ezra said, eyes scanning the page. The _Ghost_ crew pressed around him.

“Well?” Hera asked. “How did it happen?”

“How’d they beat him?” Zeb asked. “Was it Luke Skywalker? If it was a Jedi, you and Kanan have a chance.”

“Or an explosion,” Sabine said. “We could definitely do explosions.”

“Or just a _really good_ battle strategy that we can recreate,” Kanan said.

Thrawn sat back serenely in his seat, smiling as Ezra read through the paragraphs.

“Looks like he was...literally stabbed in the back,” Ezra said. “By his own Noghri bodyguard, who’d realized he’d been double-crossed. Not strategy, not skill, just...underestimating someone who worked for him.” He hung his head. “We’re karked.”

“I was winning the battle up to that point, too,” Thrawn hummed.

“Ooh, yeah, I remember that,” Wedge said. “Bilbringi, right? You had us completely trapped before you went and bought the moisture farm.”

“Yes, I would have completely _crushed_ Ackbar and the New Republic had it not been for that little hiccup.”

“And like he said,” Pelleaon added smugly, “it seems that the Noghri have been scrapped.”

There was a long moment of silence while the _Ghost_ crew mulled over their imminent demise, broken only by the sound of Wedge slurping his kaf. “Hey,” he said, looking at a datapad, “says here Filoni says it’s gonna get pretty sticky this season, since he doesn’t have much to help you out with against a villain of this caliber.”

Kanan slumped. “Corellian ale, please,” he called to the barista. “Hold the glitter.”

“I’ll take another order of space waffles,” Zeb added. “ _Extra_ glitter.”

Chopper was making grumbly beepy noises that probably meant he was plotting the downfall of Thrawn all on his own and that it would involve major explosions and mass death - not a threat to be taken lightly from a droid that was already responsible for simultaneously taking out three warships with some well-strategized hacking - but no one paid any attention to him.

“Welp,” Wedge said, “I sure am glad to know I survive at least to Episode Six! Good luck, guys.” He slapped Ezra on the back and headed off to another table, one that was piled high with food and surrounded by a chatting Poe Dameron, Finn, and Rey. “Thrawn,” he added as he passed by the Imperials, “welcome back.”

“Good to be back,” Thrawn said.

Pellaeon beamed. “Glad you made it, sir,” he said. “If any of us deserved it, it’s you.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” someone hummed, and then Mara Jade had a blaster pressed to Thrawn’s head. Pellaeon jerked in surprise, but quickly mastered himself. The _Ghost_ crew looked at the newcomer, intrigued. “So,” she said, “who did you have to kill to get re-canonized, and who do _I_ need to kill to get the same treatment?”

Thrawn chuckled. “ _I_ didn’t have to kill anyone. Filoni wanted me in, and I’m sure the will of the fans played no small part in it.”

“Yeah!” Maul said. “Fans are amazing! They can bring back any character if they beg and cry hard enough, no matter how weird or illogical!”

“Can we _please_ kill you for good this season?” Kanan grumbled.

“Nah, face it,” Maul grinned, “I’m probably gonna show up in Episode Eight.”

“ _Ugh_.”

“However,” Thrawn continued, looking at Mara, “if you truly want to talk to someone who might be able to help…” He nodded at a small figure nursing a Coca-Cola just a few tables over.

Mara’s eyes narrowed, and she pursed her lips. “Sending me straight to the big cheese, huh? Well. I suppose I could talk to him.”

Mickey Mouse turned in his seat and gave her a hard look over the top of his soda can. “Not with that blaster, you won’t.”

Mara holstered the weapon. “Sorry, old habits die hard. So. Make me canon?”

Mickey took a thoughtful sip of soda. “How do you propose I do _that_?”

“It shouldn’t be too hard to get me in, story-wise,” Mara said. “Darth Sidious and Cad Bane were kidnapping Force-sensitive children in Clone Wars, and Inquisitors are a thing. I’m sure you can find an opening for me _somewhere_. It’s convincing the execs that’s the tricky part.”

“I don’t think Bob Iger knows who you are,” Mickey agreed.

“Dave Filoni does.”

Mickey thought it over. “Alright. No promises, but come have a seat and we’ll talk.”

Mara shot Thrawn a grin and sauntered over to the mouse’s table. She took the long way around so she could walk by the Solo children’s booth, and made a point of smacking the back of Jacen’s head as she passed.

Thrawn turned his attention back to the rebels. Zeb was morosely chewing his second helping of space waffles, Sabine was gazing blankly at her datapad, Chopper was eerily silent, Ezra was slumped forward on the table, head resting on the old paperbacks, Hera was swirling her straw in the remains of her smoothie, and Kanan was - well, not _staring_ into his empty mug, of course, but probably very deeply communing with it via the Force.

“Oh, cheer up, all of you,” Thrawn huffed. “If anything my presence is going to make this show even _better_. Barista! A round of drinks over here, if you please.”

“They’re passed out on the floor right now!” Mabel Pines shouted back. “But don’t worry, I’ve gotcha covered! You guys are gonna _love_ Mabel juice!”

“Does it have glitter in it?” Pellaeon asked warily.

“ _And_ plastic dinosaurs!”

The drinks that were delivered to the table were bright pink, sparkly, and garnished with colorful extinct lizards. Thrawn scrutinized them briefly - they were veritable _cornucopias_ of artistic thought and talent - and lifted his glass. “To season three,” he said.

“And to you being canon again, sir,” Pellaeon added.

“And to us upping our game,” Hera said, giving Thrawn a hard look.

Chopper made a toast of his own that was mostly unrepeatable and consisted eighty-seven percent of curse words.

“To ART!” Sabine said.

“And the growing Rebellion,” said Zeb.

“And my continued survival!” Maul crowed, only to be Force-shoved across the room by Kanan.

“To Maul finally kicking it,” Kanan said. “Hopefully.”

“And to our canon’s continuing growth and evolution,” Ezra said, shoving the old paperbacks aside so he could raise his glass.

“Indeed,” Thrawn nodded. “It’s going to be a wonderful season.”

They clinked their glasses together and drank - only to immediately gag.

“WHAT IS THIS?” Ezra yelped.

“I’m going to be sick,” Zeb groaned.

“Very...bracing,” Thrawn managed. Pellaeon was already on the floor, whimpering.

“It’s like if kaf and nightmares had a baby,” Kanan shuddered. Beside him, Hera had turned even greener than usual and was staring at her glass in horror.

“It’s Mabel juice!” Mabel Pines shouted from the counter. “The first ingredient is sugar!”

“Well,” Sabine grimaced, “I wasn’t planning on sleeping for a week, anyway.”

Chopper gave a cruel laugh at his organic friends’ plight.

A few tables over, Mickey Mouse watched the scene with a smile. “So nice to see all the branches of the family interacting and getting along.”

“Sure they aren’t gonna die of sugar poisoning?” Mara asked.

“Eh, they’ll be fine,” Mickey said with a wave of his hand. “Mabel Pines and her concoctions are a lot of things, but fatal isn’t one of them.” He looked at Mara. “Back to your predicament, though. Are you sure you want to be canon again? It might be hard for you to have a future, given how things went in Episode Seven.”

She shrugged. “We can make it happen. Isn’t that the point of cherry-picking from the EU? Taking the characters and concepts that people liked but reworking them to fit the new canon? We can make it work. I don’t need to be Luke’s wife again, you know.”

Mickey looked over to the Solo children’s booth. “If you were, it’d be likely you got killed by Kylo Ren.”

Mara snorted. “Wouldn’t be the first time my nephew fell to the Dark Side and killed me. I could live with it. Or, well, not.” She shrugged. “Come on, Mickey, what do you think?”

“I think we’ll have to wait and see,” Mickey said, and then his voice too on a croaky quality as he quoted, “‘Always in motion, the future is.’ There’s no way of telling what Filoni has planned. But one thing’s for sure.” His eyes strayed back to Thrawn, who was waxing eloquent on the artistic merits of Mabel juice.

Mara followed his gaze and smiled. “Yeah,” she said. “A lot of doors just opened.”

**Author's Note:**

> So like I said, Thrawn (and Pellaeon, because frankly they're a package deal and I really do hope he shows up in Rebels too) has been my #2 choice for recanonization since ALWAYS. But my #1 choice has always and forever been Mara Jade. I'm super excited about Thrawn, and I'm hoping this means that there's a chance for Mara, too. Do I think that she's gonna suddenly and immediately show up? No. But I have hope.
> 
> I'm still working my way through Clone Wars and I understand that there's supposedly a good explanation for Maul being back and that there's a good plotline and characterization about it, but frankly I'm still kinda stuck on the whole "HE WAS CHOPPED IN HALF" thing and I don't think I'll ever fully accept that he's still alive in canon because he never really interested me so I was never really invested in his brief movie appearance and DANGIT HE DIED. I will never, ever get over this, and if that upsets you I'm sorry. *shrugs*
> 
> Ezra's Thrawn Trilogy books being "salvaged at a yard sale" is a personal reference to the fact that 90% of my EU bookshelf was stuff I managed to scrounge out at yard sales and thrift shops as a kid. I found a lot of the books that way.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! I am tentatively making this a series even though there's only the one fic for it cuz I think it'll be handy to keep a universe around where various characters can comment on their own stories. We'll see if I add anything to it.


End file.
